Penniless And Secretly Pregnant - Jennie Lucas Page 0,5

for Leonidas to see it in his office.

But he’d known at first sight it was fake. He’d felt heartsick at yet another wild-goose chase, trying to recover the shattered loss of his childhood. He’d told his lawyer to press charges, then used his influence with the New York prosecutor to punish the hapless art dealer to the fullest extent of the law.

He’d found out later that the Brooklyn art dealer had been selling minor forgeries for years. His mistake had been trying to move up to the big leagues with a Picasso—and trying to sell it to Leonidas Niarxos.

The old man’s trial had become a New York sensation. Leonidas never attended the trial, but everyone had known he was behind it.

It was only later that Leonidas had regrets, especially after his lawyer had told him about the man’s daughter, who’d loyally sat behind her elderly father in court, day after day, with huge eyes. He’d seen the daughter’s stricken face in a poignant drawing of the courtroom, as she’d tearfully thrown her arms around her father when the verdict had come down and he’d been sentenced to six years. She’d clearly believed in Patrick Cassidy’s innocence to the end.

A few months ago, on hearing the man had died suddenly in prison, Leonidas hadn’t been able to shake a strange, restless guilt. As angry as he’d been at the man’s deceit, even he didn’t think death was the correct punishment for the crime of art forgery.

So last month, Leonidas had gone to the Brooklyn diner where Daisy Cassidy worked as a waitress, to confirm for himself the girl was all right, and anonymously leave her a ten-thousand-dollar tip.

Instead, as the pretty young brunette had served him coffee, eggs and bacon, they got to talking about art and movies and literature, and he was amazed at how fascinating she was, how funny, warm and kind. And so damn beautiful. Leonidas had lingered, finally asking her if she wanted to meet after her shift ended.

He’d lied to her.

No. He hadn’t lied, not exactly. The name he’d given her was a nickname his nanny had given him in childhood, Leo, along with his patronymic, Gianakos.

Leo, Daisy called him, her voice so musical and light, and hearing that name on her sweet lips, he always felt like a different person. A better man.

No woman had ever affected him like this before. Why now? Why her?

He’d never intended to seduce her. But Daisy’s warmth and innocent sensuality had been like fire to someone frozen in ice. For the first time in his life, Leonidas had been powerless to resist his desire.

But after tonight, when he told her the truth at his cocktail party—hell, from the moment she saw his house, when she obviously believed he lived in some grim studio apartment—he’d have no choice but to do without her.

Just thinking about it, Leonidas barely restrained himself all afternoon from biting the heads off his vice presidents and other employees when they dared ask him a question. But there was no point in blaming anyone else. It was his own fault.

Sitting in his private office, with its floor-to-ceiling windows with all of Manhattan at his feet, Leonidas gazed sightlessly over the city.

Was there any chance he could keep her?

Daisy Cassidy was in love with him. He’d seen her love in her beautiful face, shining in those pale green eyes, though she’d made some hopeless attempts to hide it. And she believed him to be some salesclerk in a Manhattan boutique. She loved him. Not for his billions. Not for his power. For himself.

If she could love some poverty-stricken salesclerk, couldn’t she love Leonidas, too, flaws and all?

Maybe if he revealed why he’d been so angry about the Picasso, and the horrible secret of his childhood...

He shuddered. No. He could never tell anyone that. Or about his true parentage.

So how else could he convince her to stay?

Leonidas barely paid attention to a long, contentious board meeting, or the presentations of his brand presidents, discussing sales trends in luxury watches and jewelry in Asia and champagne and spirits in North America. Instead, he kept fantasizing about how, instead of losing Daisy with his confession tonight, he could manage to win her.

She would arrive at his cocktail party, he thought, and hopefully be dazzled by his famous guests, along with his fifty-million-dollar mansion. He would wait for just the right moment, then pull her away privately and explain. There would be awkwardness when she realized he’d been the one who’d